Ten Good Reasons
by RainThestral93
Summary: When Hermione Granger suddenly finds herself with nowhere to live, the Weasley twins are kind enough to offer her a place to stay. One day, Fred makes a cheeky proposition. Hermione counters by demanding ten good reasons why she should give in to his request. Can the redhead wear her down?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Deal Making

Hermione Jean Granger was stressed to the umpteenth degree. Her landlord had kicked her out with three days notice, not having thought to mention that the block of flats she lived in was being demolished and turned into a government building. Until she found a new place, Hermione was shacking up at the Burrow. The chaos and disorder of the place – as much as Hermione loved the Weasley family she wasn't big on mess or noise – was already driving her to distraction. She sighed exasperatedly as she hefted another box of her possessions into her battered Mini Cooper, ready for transferring to the Weasley abode.

"Wotcha, Granger," Fred had grinned, sneaking up on her so that she nearly dropped the box of records that she was, without much success, trying to load into her car.

"Jesus Fred!" Hermione exclaimed, "You scared me."

"Not the usual reaction I provoke in a lady," the redhead grinned, and Hermione rolled her eyes. He was always so crude, she thought to herself. "Need a hand?"

Her tone softened, "Yes please. There's a few more boxes inside, if you could get those then that would be great."

"No problem," grinned Fred, as he bounded up the steps to the flat two at a time.

Hermione blushed when she realised that her underwear box was atop the pile Fred brought down. If the freckled wizard had noticed the box's contents, then he didn't say anything, and for that, Hermione was grateful.

The last thing she needed was a play by play analysis of the content of her underwear drawer.

"C'mon then," Fred smiled amicably. "Mum will kill us if we're late to dinner."

"More like you'll kill your brothers, because there won't be any food left," grinned Hermione.

"You know me too well," chuckled Fred heartily as he ducked into the passenger side of Hermione's car, hunching over to be able to fit into it. "You really need a bigger car, you know," he told her, "I barely fit in it."

"Only because your head is so big," Hermione grinned, and Fred responded with mock indignation.

Dinner at the Weasley's was never a small occasion. Even with Bill having moved out to live with Fleur and their baby daughter, Victoire, and Charlie living and working in Romania, it was still not a small spread by any means.

Molly Weasley's sons had famous appetites – and it was with bemusement Hermione pondered how Molly and Arthur hadn't been eaten out of house and home, over the years. When you've got seven children, creating a total of nine people in your family, it can't be easy to feed them all, Hermione mused. It was a good think Molly Weasley loved cooking – just as much as people enjoyed eating the delicious nourishment she made.

"Hermione have you found anywhere yet?" Arthur Weasley asked, conversationally.

Molly cut in, worried that Hermione would be offended by her husband's question, "Not that you're not welcome here of course," the mumsy witch smiled fondly at the brunette. "You can stay here for as long as you need, what with your parents being-" she stopped sharply, realizing that Hermione probably didn't want reminding about her parents' predicament at the dinner table.

Hermione smiled gratefully at Molly. She had finally dealt with the fact that her parents' memories were irreversible, for her obliviate charm had been too potent, and it no longer bothered her.

"Thanks Molly," she smiled, "But no, Arthur, I'm still looking, I'm afraid."

Fred and George were whispering in hushed tones at the other end of the table.

"Boys!" Molly exclaimed, watching with distaste as her other son, Ron, stuffed his mouth until it overflowed with roast potatoes. "Don't whisper, it's rude!"

"Sorry, Mum," Fred and George both apologised in unison.

Fred turned to look at Hermione. "You can come and live with us in the flat if you want," he smiled. He liked Hermione – she _talked_ to him, like he was a person, and not some noteworthy celebrity to drool over, like a lot of his female friends did. George did as well – which was why, from their hushed discussion, they'd concluded that they wouldn't mind putting her up for a while.

"You're serious?" Hermione exclaimed, overjoyed.

"Sure," George smiled. "I mean you'd have to put your bit towards the rent, and pitch in with the cooking and cleaning every now and then, but I don't see why not."

"That's very kind of you, boys," Molly smiled fondly at her twins, a bemused expression flitting across her face momentarily. Her boys weren't usually known for random acts of kindness – and she wondered what had brought this on.

"Nah, it's nothing Mum," Fred grinned at Hermione, "Hermione's practically family, and it's the least we can do."

So it was settled. Hermione would be moving into the flat above Weasley Wizard Wheezes, with none other than Fred and George.

It took about a week for Hermione shift all her things from the Burrow and get them sorted. Thankfully, the flat was three bedroomed, and until now, had only been used as extra storage space for the shop below. Fred and George had been especially helpful, helping her purchase an antique bed from a Muggle store in London, shrink it, and get it back to the flat in one piece.

Molly had pitched in with a nice faded white wood dresser which she claimed to have no need for any more, and Hermione fell in love with it instantly. Thanks to being able to perform magic, given that Hermione was now twenty-one years of age, and very adept, it made the move a hell of a lot easier than if she'd not had a wand. She was able to use weight reducing charms to make things maneuverable on her own, and she shrunk lots of her books to make for easy transportation.

Nonetheless, it still took about a week before everything had a new home, and Fred and George's flat looked less like a dumping ground. Hermione sighed and collapsed onto the cream sofa in the living room – it seemed Fred and George (she suspected, through Angie's input) had quite the eye for furniture – and their flat was modestly decorated in mostly reds, blacks, whites and dark chocolate brown. It was nice, and Hermione found herself feeling at home, nearly immediately.

Creating a nest amongst the cushions, she flicked on the TV. The TV had been hers, and she'd brought it with her – much to the delight of Fred and George who had always wanted one, yet never really known what to buy. She flicked through the channels, disappointed at the lack of choice, and settled on a cookery program.

Fred joined her, sitting on the other end of the sofa, and drawing Hermione's legs into his lap so that there was actually space to sit down in. It was a rather small sofa, after all.

They watched in comfortable silence as one by one the contestants were eliminated and left the show, sobbing. Hermione laughed occasionally at some of the comments made by the judges – and for some reason Fred found himself laughing alongside her. She had a nice laugh, he thought to himself.

There was an advert break – it felt like there were more adverts than actual program, Fred chuckled to himself, and both he and Hermione watched, their eyes glued to the screen as an advert for a new type of perfume came on screen.

A half-naked woman ran along a beach, and an equally naked man chased her, until he caught her and kissed her rather a lot. Hermione felt her cheeks involuntarily tinging pink, and she hoped that Fred wasn't looking in her direction.

He wasn't, Hermione chuckled, as she checked. He was far too dazzled by the advert's female model to notice her discomfort.

Next, a condom advert came on, being after watershed and all, and Hermione felt like hiding her head in her hands.

The subject of sex didn't usually embarrass her, but there was something about sitting next to a male friend and watching rather provocative adverts that made Hermione squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

Noticing her agitation, Fred grinned at Hermione, breaking the silence between them as he announced, "I think you should have sex with me."

Hermione nearly choked – which was ridiculous, given that she wasn't eating or drinking, so she would have choked on simply air.

"Sorry, what?" She composed herself, amused, "You think I should sleep with you?"

Fred shrugged, "Yeah why not."

"I can think of plenty of reasons why not," Hermione grinned, amused that Fred had even made such a preposition.

"Well I can think of plenty reasons why we should," Fred retorted, a lot more confident than the Gryffindor bookworm. His willingness to just talk about having sex outside of a relationship, like this, was making her somewhat uneasy.

"Well give me ten good reasons, and then maybe I'll consider it," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the cookery program, feeling her cheeks still slightly hot with embarrassment.

"Deal," grinned Fred. "You don't know what you've let yourself in for," he grinned wickedly.

Hermione suspected she had a pretty good idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Curiosity Killed the Cat**

Hermione was sat on the couch watching TV. Her hand brought a forkful of noodles up to her mouth, chew, and repeat. She'd been continuing this sequence for the better part of half an hour now, enraptured by the nature program she was watching.

It was a special episode on cats – both wild and domestic – and it was intriguing to Hermione, who had always been a big fan of cats. Unfortunately Crookshanks had recently died, and the Gryffindor bookworm sometimes got a little sniffly every now and then when she found herself wanting something to cuddle.

Not that Crookshanks had ever really appreciated the hugs that Hermione had lavished on him – he was a rather feral animal, after all. Maybe it was the kneazle in him, she mused.

She was jolted out of her reverie by the presence of a familiar redhead on the sofa next to her.

"Whatcha, 'Mione," Fred grinned at her, grabbing a fork from the cutlery pot – don't ask why it was on the coffee table, it was meant to be "artistic" or something ridiculous like that - Hermione was still trying to get her head round it, and suspected it was for convenience sake more than anything else.

"Oh hey, Fred," She smiled, "Made much progress with your list of reasons yet?" She grinned wickedly. Only Hermione Granger would set Fred an academic sounding task detailing why Hermione should have sex with Fred. She'd be so much better if she worked in politics, she chuckled to herself, taking another bite of the Chinese food.

"All in good time, all in good time," Fred grinned, throwing her a saucy wink as he cracked open one of the fortune cookies that came complimentary with the meal.

If the TV wasn't a good enough deal cincher for the twins RE: letting Hermione move into their flat, then the introduction to Chinese takeout sealed the deal.

Fred had been especially fascinated by the concept of fortune cookies, and had come to take the messages on the scraps of paper as divine guidance. Hermione was amused watching as he read each one, puzzling in thought as he tried to work out what it meant.

This time, when he read the prophetic sentence, a smile broke out across his face, and when he looked up he had a wicked look in his eyes.

"Hermione, you know the expression _Curiosity Killed the Cat,_ " Fred began, and Hermione regarded him with suspicion. Where was this going?

"Yesss…" She admitted, "What about it?"

"Well it would be an awful shame for you die, wouldn't it?"

"I wasn't planning on doing it any time soon," chuckled Hermione, "I've had plenty of near death experiences in my life already, thanks."

"Yes well what if you died from the curiosity of not having sex with me?"

For a few moments, Hermione burst out into peals of uncontrollable laughter, "Nice try Fred," she gasped, between laughs. "But I'm not a cat."

"Don't lie to me, Hermione, we all saw you in the hospital wing in your second year… Millicent Bullstrode's cat wasn't really one of you better looks," he grinned, dodging a cushion that Hermione had lobbed his way.

"How come you've never mentioned it?" She exclaimed, mortified that her furry little secret had been discovered.

"Well, Madame Pomfrey said she'd jinx us if we ever said anything –" Fred began, trailing off as he saw the cheeky expression on Hermione's face.

"Oh really?" She smiled, "Well it just so happens that Madame Pomfrey and I have stayed in contact – we're very good friends," Hermione remarked slyly.

"Nooooo," Fred exclaimed dramatically, "Anything, Hermione, I beg you, but don't set the matron on me – she's _evil_!" Hermione chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not a snitch," she admitted, "But tell anyone about the cat incident and your balls are in serious danger."

"My whole penis is in danger, Hermione," Fred grinned, "Will you take a look at it for me? I'll let you touch it, if you want," the redhead was doing his best not to laugh.

Hermione shot Fred a disdainful look. "You really are disgusting, you know that?"

"C'mon 'Mione," Fred whined, "I'm only messing."

"Good."

She settled back into the comforting support that the sofa offered, watching the remaining few minutes of the cat program. It was somewhat harder to follow, given that her conversation with Fred had distracted her from the documentary altogether.

Fred broke the silence. "C'mon, surely you'd have heard the girls at Hogwarts talking? You can't deny that you're a bit curious?"

Hermione looked at Fred pointedly. "You think I listened to the incessant drivel that came out the mouths of Lavendar Brown and those aggravating Patil sisters?"

"OK maybe not," grinned Fred, "No wonder you've still got so many brain cells – I bet you had your head buried in a book as thick as the three of them put together," he chuckled, "At the time they would have been discussing my –ahem- _manhood_ ," He lowered his eyes to his crotch, causing Hermione to tut in outward disgust. He really was vulgar, at times, she thought.

"Funnily enough, yes, I probably did. That's what clever people do, you see, read."

"Oh Granger, I'm offended that you insult my intelligence so… one doth protest," Fred mock clutched his heart, prompting another eye roll from Hermione's direction. "But aren't you a _tiny_ bit curious?" He probed, genuinely intrigued.

It was a well-known fact that Fred Weasley was a desired individual. He had been through all of his Hogwarts years, and he still was now; the flocks of girls that came into the shop just to drool were evidence enough – and didn't he know it, thought Hermione.

She responded smartly with a witty comeback, the best way to avoid answering a question, "I think there's only one thing around here that's bound to be tiny," she trailed off, pointedly staring in the vicinity of Fred's appendage. She chuckled, laughing at the disgruntled reaction that flitted across Fred's face – replaced almost instantaneously by a look of determination, and perhaps even hopefulness, she noted, amused.

"Well you'll never know until you try, will you," Fred grinned. "I would whip down my trousers here and now, but if my memory serves me correctly, I've got to come up with nine more reasons, and then maybe you'll do it for me instead," he winked at Hermione, prompting yet _another_ eye roll.

"You're insufferable," she remarked, noticing with amusement that the slip of paper from Fred's fortune cookie was on the table. It read 'Curiosity Killed the Cat'… "D'you know that?" She asked, already knowing his response.

He grinned. "But you wouldn't want me any other way," he pointed out, and Hermione paused in thought.

 _No_ , she supposed, _no she wouldn't._


End file.
